Lessons
by reading-is-in
Summary: Some lessons are easy to learn. Some are harder. Three vignettes. SPOILERS for 7.03.


Lessons.

1. 1985.

"What the hell do you mean, rock salt? What's the goddam difference between rock salt and regular salt? They – okay, okay. Just…this is all so…" Holding the phone to his ear with one shoulder, John Winchester grabbed a pencil with one hand scrawled something on a notepad. In his other hand, he loosely held a plastic spoon full of Cheerios, vaguely in the direction of his 8-month-old son's mouth. Sammy opened his mouth expectantly, changed his mind, and pressed his lips together. "Hang on." John put the spoon down in order to steady the pad with his other hand and Sammy grabbed the spoon, throwing it across the room with surprising force where it bounced off the kitchen window. "Sammy!" John said, and half-stood to turn around – the motion yanked on the telephone wire and pulled the phone from its place on the sideboard. The whole thing fell to the tiled floor with a resounding CRACK, and the DING of disconnection.

"Goddammit!" John exclaimed, running a hand through his already-wild hair. "Dean, feed the baby, I'm going to use the bedroom phone."

Dean Winchester, aged four years and eleven months, watched silently from the doorway. When the phone hit the floor he jumped, but didn't protest, and nodded in response to his father's instructions. His Daddy had an important mission: he was hunting the monsters that took Mommy. Maybe when he found them, Mommy would come back, so Dean always had to help him. Retrieving the spoon where it fell, he climbed up to his father's place at the table and showed Sammy the cereal bowl. Sammy was frowning now, undecided whether to cry or not at his father's abrupt departure, but laughed and clapped his hands at the attention from his brother.

"Look, food is yummy," Dean said, and offered another spoonful. Sam clamped his mouth shut and screwed his face up, making his noise of disapproval. He reached for the bowl instead and smushed his hand in it. "Not to play with!" Dean told him, and demonstrated by picking up a Cheerio and putting it in his own mouth. "Mmm," he said exaggeratedly. "Good." Sam watched him with interest the same way he watched Dean do most things. Then picked up the whole plastic bowl in one hand and brought it to his mouth, effectively tipping the contents over his face.

Some of it went in his mouth though, and he laughed, milk and mushed Cheerios dribbling down his face.

2. 1992.

"Oh. Dean. I have a question. How do you talk to girls?"

"What?" Dean laughed, eminently amused. "Don't tell me little Sammy's got a crush on-"

"Shut up! Are you going to tell me or not?"

"If I don't, will you ask Dad? Or Uncle Bobby?"

"Ew, GROSS! Jeez, thanks. " Sam was halfway tempted to wipe the phone on his shirt. When the librarian gave him another glare, he said, "Hang on. I'm gonna just duck outside." He stepped out of the shadowed library into bright sunlight on the stone porch. "Okay."

"So…." Dean spun out, obviously enjoying this way too much. "Who is she?"

"Obviously I don't _know _yet, if I haven't talked to her."

"But I mean what kind of chick, Sammy? Like a bad girl or girl next door?"

"Sam. She's….smart. I saw her at the library and she reads all this serious stuff- "

"A geek. Naturally." Dean snorted. "Hey don't sweat it, Sammy, sometimes the quiet ones turn out to be the most-"

"DEAN! I said _talk_, not…anything else!"

"Okay, okay. Chill, midget. So she's a geek, you're a geek, you got stuff in common. Ask her what she's reading. Then say something like, so I bet we could have some great _study sessions together_."

"ARGH!" Sam hit his head gently against the brick wall, and a passerby gave him a curious look. "Why am I even asking you?"

"Do you want to pick this chick up or what?"

"No! Yes! I don't know. I want to _talk to her_."

"So talk to her. I don't know, _introduce yourself_. She isn't another species, you know , kid. Try 'Hey I'm new in town, what do people do for fun around here?'"

"Okay," Sam blew out a breath and pushed his hair out of his face.

"Get a haircut."

"What?" Sam stared at the phone. How did Dean _know_?

"I just know you to well, kid," his brother laughed. "Let me know how it goes with your girlfriend. "

"Okay," Sam said again. "You're right. She's not another species."

"Okay."

"So, bye Dean."

"Watch out for yourself Sammy."

2001.

"I have to," Sam whispered urgently. "_He's_the one that's not giving me any choice."

"You have a choice!" Dean exclaimed. "Stay! What do you need from college?"

"How about a life of my own?" Sam said bitterly. It was dusk. Sam and Dean stood on the front porch of the apartment complex they were staying in. Moths buzzed about the flickering lightbulb.

"_This_ is life," Dean said, grabbing Sam's arm. Sam tried to pull away but his brother was still stronger. "That's stupidity. Delusion. _Hunting_ is life. They can't teach you _anything_that you'll need in the real world."

"Let me _go_," Sam pulled harder, and Dean released his arm – it was either that or hurt him. "Believe me, they can. I'm gonna get a job, get a place to live. You can come visit me, don't tell Dad," he added a little desperately. Dean looked scathing. As if their father would let Dean just take off.

"So come with me," Sam said.

"No," said Dean.

"Why not?"

"Sammy I…I would do a _lot_for you. You know that. But not this. I won't leave Dad. Besides," he half-laughed. "What exactly am I gonna do at an Ivy League school? College janitor?"

"You're smart," Sam said.

"Not like you," Dean said.

They regarded each other a moment, then Sam flung himself into his brother's arms, and the surprise of it almost knocked Dean over. Dean held him tightly, like he hadn't since Sam was a little kid.

"I'll see you soon. Somehow," Sam promised.

"Alright."

"No I will."

"Just take care of yourself Sammy."

"You too. Don't – don't let him –" _'Don't let him ruin you'_, he wanted to say, but his melodramatic imagination whispered that was already too late. He looked back, once, then picked up his bag and stepped down into the yellow pools from the streetlights.

End.


End file.
